


Blue Blood Is Thicker

by FalseDetective



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Babysitting, Comedy, Fluff, Gen, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalseDetective/pseuds/FalseDetective
Summary: Connor and Hank find a lost child android, and cannot seem to locate her guardians. She needs a place to stay until the case is solved, and that place turns out to be the lieutenant's house.





	Blue Blood Is Thicker

**Author's Note:**

> Insert my usual "English isn't my first language" disclaimer here. Also, please note that Connor and Hank have a father-son relationship in this fic. Enjoy <3

It was a warm but overcast afternoon in downtown Detroit, hazy with the promise of afternoon rain. A young man and an older one stood next to the tables near the food cart they were regulars at. There was nothing unusual about them, really: just two people enjoying their lunch break on a Tuesday like every other.

“So?” The older one asked, his mouth full. “What do you think?”

“It’s like…” The young man paused for a moment, trying to find the right words to describe the edible coronary disease he was chewing on. To tell the truth, he didn’t actually taste the difference between a sample of blue blood and a hamburger, but he didn’t know how to communicate that in a way that wasn’t insulting to his partner and what was, according to him, “the best burger in Detroit”.

“You’re chewing on it like it’s goddamn caviar, Connor. Come on, it’s not that complicated,” The man urged him with a sloppy gesture.

Connor took a hesitant look at the burger in his hand before finally admitting, “It tastes a bit like blue blood, actually.”

Hank’s face fell as his hands paused mid-air, just as he was about to take another bite. He lowered his burger before shifting from one foot to another, trying to figure out Connor’s cryptic expression. “Are you serious? No, you’re fucking around,” He nodded his head in disbelief.

“My programming wasn’t…”

Raising his eyebrows, Hank took a deep breath and plonked his burger on the table as though he had just found out it had leprosy – or 1240 calories, which it did actually have. “Alright, we’re done here.” He sighed, then took a napkin to wipe his mouth before leaving the table. “I’m getting back in the car.”

After passing Connor by in the belief that the android was going to follow him, Hank had to turn around once again, only to find the RK800 with his burger held to his mouth, about to take another bite.

“Jesus _Christ_ , Connor!” Hank nodded for emphasis, his face almost in pain. He gestured at Connor, begging, “Don’t… don’t eat that, for fuck’s sake! Jesus!”

“I didn’t say it was bad,” Connor replied with a blank expression, seemingly oblivious.

Waving his arms dismissively, Hank shook his head and decided to get back in the car. “Android vampires. _Fuck_ me,” he sneered under his breath, shuffling along.

Connor blinked at Hank innocently until the lieutenant turned his back to him, then set his burger down and acknowledged victory with a tiny smirk of satisfaction. Hank’s coronaries were going to thank him one day.

However, before he could go after the lieutenant, Connor spotted something from the corner of his eye. He immediately turned his head in the direction of the strange feeling. As soon as he did, he heard a dull thud, a sound his database couldn’t identify precisely. There was nothing behind the truck, or anywhere near it for that matter, only Gary and his hamburger patties and bacon strips, sizzling in grease while the chef made conversation with a regular.

Looking around, Connor saw nothing but old warehouses, the overpass above, a few men working the nearby construction site, and the sails of windmills turning in the distance. This was an industrial area with little traffic and few passers-by at this hour as all the commuters were at work. Besides, Connor knew that his mind wasn’t programmed to play tricks on him, so he kept glaring at the suspicious spot that was the back of the food cart.

“Connor! What are you doing?” Hank called from behind rolled down windows.

“Be right there, lieutenant!” Connor shouted back without even looking, and disregarded Hank’s irritated groan as he decided to investigate the back of the truck.

He walked around the cart, scanning the surroundings from under furrowed brows, but came full circle without having found anything.

“Did the ketchup get to your circuits, or what?” The lieutenant asked in an attempt to make sense of his partner’s behavior. Connor disappeared behind the truck again, either ignoring him or being too immersed in his improvised mini-investigation to care. Hank sighed and turned the radio on, mumbling to himself.

Connor was designed to trust his senses, and he was designed to investigate when he had the chance. He couldn’t turn this off. Okay, maybe he could have, but let’s be honest: he didn’t want to. There was at least a little RK800 still left in him.

In addition, his software was way too expensive for on-duty bugs, and he knew he would have to report any anomaly he found in his system – for his own sake, that is, not CyberLife’s. In either case, he had to make sure that the source of the strange activity was in fact a raccoon or something of the sort, and not his imagination.

As he approached the back of the truck once again, this time observing it even more closely, something caught his eye: the narrow gap between the truck’s bottom and the sidewalk’s concrete. The opening was way too small to hide under, so he would have passed by it dismissively, had he not heard the mousy whimpering coming from below, no doubt amplified by his presence. An inquisitive expression wrinkling his features, Connor crouched down and peered under the wagon.

He was surprised to find two brown eyes staring back at him from the shadows, wide with dread. It was a child, around eight years of age – a YK500 model, as Connor’s scan revealed in the blink of an eye. It was clear from her expression that she was not playing hide and seek – she was hiding.

“Hi,” Connor blurted out, blinking in surprise. In that moment, he realized something puzzling: during his brief time spent on Earth, he had not really had time or opportunity to get to know any children. While he was born with the ability to conduct forensic interviews in the event that a child becomes involved in a case, any other skill required to socialize with children was something he had yet to learn.

If there was anything he knew about YK500’s, it was that they were just like any other kid, which meant that he didn’t know a thing about them. He also knew that after the revolution, many of them were abandoned and orphaned by those who preferred an ever-obedient child – after all, society doesn’t change overnight.

The little girl, seemingly too scared to open her mouth, did not greet him in response. Connor tried again, “What are you doing here? Where are your parents?”

The child’s doe-eyes only widened in response. Connor thought she might have interpreted the questions as accusatory, and realized he needed to ditch the inquisition-approach. He knew that YK500’s usually had unique names given to them by their owners – nowadays referred to as adoptive parents or guardians –, and thus decided to try and break the ice by introducing himself.

“I’m Connor. What is your name?”

No answer. The YK500 seemed to shrink a size every time he addressed her, pulling her shoulders closer and closer to her ears. She was holding onto a ragged rabbit plushie like her life depended on it.

“I see you have a friend. What’s his name?” Connor looked at the button-eyed bunny.

“She’s a girl,” came the unexpected answer in a whisper that sounded almost offended, “Her name is Rosie.”

An uncertain smile appeared on Connor’s face as he debated what to say next. He even considered getting Hank, an experienced parent, out of the car to help draw the little mouse out of hiding – however, leaving her all alone in her frightened state was out of the question. In fact, it could have scared her even more to have several people gawking at her, and Connor thought it would be easier to establish trust one-on-one. Either way, he needed to get by without Hank’s help, for the time being.

“Rosie seems a little scared,” Connor suggested, lowering his voice. “Do you know what scared her?”

“Mean people,” She whispered with a pout, breaking eye contact.

“Were the mean people strangers?” Connor asked, and the little girl nodded silently. She once again seemed to be getting visibly anxious at the mention of the “mean people”, which Connor interpreted as a sign that he shouldn’t push it anymore. Making her feel safe had to be his top priority.

“You’re a smart girl for hiding: it’s best to avoid strangers. But it’s okay now, they’re gone.”

It would have been a great help if he could have analyzed her physical state, but he couldn’t do that until she crawled out from underneath the truck.

“Do you think Rosie wants to go home?” Connor asked, tilting his head. The little girl nodded in silence, which was a great relief, as well as her previous answers. These pretty much ruled out domestic abuse, something that was a common motivator for runaway androids. Connor’s best guess was that the child had simply strayed away from her guardians, a problem that would be easy to solve once he accessed the department’s database.

“Well, what if I told you I could take you home?” Connor asked in a casual tone, raising his eyebrows.

“You’re a stranger,” she said, her eyebrows furrowed. 

Shit. 

“That is true,” he admitted, pausing for a second, “But I am with the police. You can trust me. See?” He then reached underneath his jacket to pull out an electronic badge, holding it up so that the YK500 could see it. He didn’t do it because he thought the child would actually ask him to identify himself, but because he knew that kids love detectives almost as much as firefighters.

“Wow!” The child mouthed. She was indeed easy to impress. “Can I see it?”

As Connor handed her the holographic piece of identification, she let go of Rosie as if it had never existed.

Once she was done rotating the ID in every possible direction, the little girl crawled closer, stuck her little head out from below the truck, and took a cautious look around. Once she has made sure that there was no one out there but Connor, she handed him the badge and finally said, “Okay, I will go with you.”

Connor stood to give way to her as she crawled out from underneath the truck and got up. Her clothes all seemed intact and she bore no visible signs of any kind of physical harm. She still seemed a bit scared to come out of hiding as she gravitated towards Connor, the only grown-up around that she now trusted.

“Are you ready to go?” Connor asked her. His tone was almost comically normal, as if he was talking to another adult. Baby talk really was not part of his programming.

The little girl looked up at Connor, hugging Rosie with one hand, and reaching with the other towards him. For a moment, he could barely process the request he was faced with: the child wanted to hold his hands, possibly to feel more secure, and like I said, making her feel safe was his top priority. That is the sole reason he obliged, of course.

* * *

 

After only about 10 minutes of waiting in the car and listening to the noises he called music, Hank looked up from his phone only to find Connor emerging from the back of the food cart with a child by his side, holding her hand like some goddamn… Well, Hank couldn’t find any comparison that could have given this sight any justice.

“Ho-ly shit.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! This one is going to have a plot and a point to it too, if all goes well. (My tumblr is coldcaes btw, feel free to follow me for more DBH lunacy) // EDIT: Yes, there are going to be more chapters, idk why AO3 won't mark it as such. // EDIT2: It was because I didn't ACTUALLY have it ticked. Wow.


End file.
